Insatiable

An original poem/spoken word about appetite, heartbreak, and grief.

Cover and video art by Ricardo Cavolo

YouTube: https://youtu.be/Sumt8vszuCg

They say, "idle hands are the devil's playthings."

Well, my idle hands found themselves

Fisting scavenged, sometimes stolen, snacks into my mouth

Cooking, frying, simmering, plating

Watching the clock for

A socially and parentally acceptable time

To begin feasting again

I used to eagerly watch the scale number slowly climb

As I packed pounds of muscle onto my slight frame

That I've always picked apart

Now, I pick at my seemingly inedible food

Nausea and dread filling my once

Bottomless pit of a stomach

My hollow leg

My appetite of a horse reduced to that of a frail bird

My insatiable appetite for physical nourishment

Has been replaced by my craving for love

And my passion for self-care

Has been lost in my pursuit of lust

I lust not just for the touch

I'm starving for

But for reciprocation of

The deep well of kindness I harbor

That I know I keep drawing from and offering

To the wrong people

Who enjoy sipping on me with their sweet lips

That spit poison and lies

I try not to let their cruelty and carelessness pollute me

And whereas my eyes were once too big for my stomach

Because of my gluttony and fear

Now I fear my desperate pursuit of love

Has caused me to continue to compromise

The true, good love I know I possess

And my already-troubled sense of safety

For the most meager morsels of love and affection

While I beg and cling desperately

To any scraps of love and care I’m thrown

You are terrified to sink your teeth into those same morsels

What are you running from?

And why do you run at a pace that

Will guarantee I'll fall behind?

GOD, do I want to gorge again

I want to sink my teeth into cheese and bread

And all the things I'm not supposed to eat

All the things that will slowly kill me

I want to loudly slurp and gulp

Make a righteous mess of my mouth

And of my heart

Feast until I've had my fill of all

The nourishment and love I can stomach

But food turns to cardboard on my tongue

Smoothies taste like chalk

And sometimes, the once-inviting aroma

Of a freshly-prepared meal

Causes my stomach to toss and turn

I'm terrified I'll waste away from anxiety and grief

Before I starve

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